A Quest for Love
by a nuther
Summary: Millicent Bulstrode wants a boyfriend. A timid, obedient, Gryffindor boyfriend. A girl like Millicent should easily be able to captivate Neville Longbottom with her charm. But it proves to be a harder task than Millicent had bargained for...
1. My Ideal Boyfriend

  
A Quest for Love: Chapter One  
  
I didn't want a particularly strong boyfriend. It was always my belief that relationships need to be balanced, and my strength could definitely make up for the both us. Once, a girl suggested that Vincent Crabbe and I would make "such a cute couple--you have so much in common!" Ewww . . . I punched her in the nose. It wasn't one of my best punches, either; her bloody nose only lasted a couple of hours. Nevertheless, that was the last time anyone tried to pair me up--everyone else took the hint.   
  
On the other hand, I did want a boyfriend. At the moment, all of the guys were too scared of me to even think of friendship. But a boyfriend would have been nice . . . of course, provided that he was small and meek and did everything that I told him too. Unfortunately, there weren't too many guys like that in Slytherin. So I was forced to look to the other houses for my ideal man.  
  
A Hufflepuff would be best. Slytherin and Hufflepuff were almost always on good terms. There was only one problem; all of the Hufflepuff boys in our year were so afraid me that whenever I approach them, they would scurry away from me, throwing terrified glances over their shoulders. Every time that happened, I was struck anew at how fast they were. I suppose they must have developed some muscle doing all of that hard work that they are famous for.  
  
After Hufflepuffs came the Ravenclaws. But the Ravenclaws were so dull. Besides, they were much too clever and alert--I probably wouldn't be able to slip any Love Potions into their pumpkin juice without at least one of them noticing. And they weren't as easily intimidated as some guys I knew.  
  
So that left only Gryffindor, my own house's nemesis. I sighed. The thing about Gryffindors was that they were too brave; it would not be an easy job to make one submit to my power. Harry, Ron . . . I shook my head. Out of all of the boys in my school, these would be the last ones to choose. Even a bloody Ravenclaw would be better than those boys.  
  
Seamus, Dean . . . getting closer, but I could see at once that they wouldn't do either. Although I might have been able to handle either of them by himself, they were always together. And it is always harder to frighten two boys at once than alone.  
  
There was one more Gryffindor boy . . . who was he? Ah, yes. Neville Longbottom. My brow furrowed. Didn't he have the parents who went crazy under the Cruciatus Curse? I stifled a giggle. He would be perfect; weak, submissive, all of the qualities that I value in others. And he must have inherited them straight from his parents. Honestly, even I can deal with the Cruciatus better than that.   
  
Well, now that that was settled, the only thing that remained to be done was to capture him. I rubbed my hands together. That should be fairly easy; all it would take was an hour or so of planning, and a successful strategy. I settled down in one of the dull green common room chairs to think.   
  
Thirty minutes later, I had found the solution. It was perfect--I could almost feel a slightly evil grin brightening my features. I would start tomorrow. If only my soon-to-be boyfriend wasn't in Gryffindor . . . Oh well. You can't have everything.  
  
  
The next morning, I made sure to look especially pretty before venturing down into the Great Hall. I put on an extra coat of lipstick, and I even put my hair in a braid. And when I sat down at the table, I made sure to paste an especially big, bright, toothy smile across my face for Neville to see. I think I might have scared him . . . when I looked over again, Weasley was trying to pull a cowering Neville out from under the table. I frowned to myself. While fear is a virtue, one can carry it too far. I would have to drill that out of him later.  
  
  
But it was in Transfiguration that my plan really started to move along. We were trying to transfigure roses into pickles. To tell the truth, I wasn't paying too much attention. I was occupied with gazing at Neville, waiting for just the right moment to interrupt. Ah, yes, he seems to have finally mastered the spell, with only one minute left to class. I surreptitiously grabbed my cat, Cupid, into my arms, and leapt across the desk that divided us. The orange beam of light that had just left Neville's wand was caught by Cupid in the forehead. Perfect.  
  
I was suddenly cradling a giant pickle in my arms. Poor Cupid. Not that he minded, of course. After all, pickles can't think. By the way, I didn't pick the name Cupid. He was named that when I got him, and unfortunately, he refused to respond to anything else.   
  
So here I was, holding a mammoth pickle. Neville's lip was starting to tremble and I could see that he desperately wanted to hide under the desk. At that moment, McGonagall chose to march on over. She was furious; her face was crimson, and her eyes were bulging madly. "What exactly were you doing, Miss Bulstrode, leaping over desks like that? And getting cats transfigured into pickles? For that matter, why on earth did you have a cat in class at all? I demand an explanation, NOW!" By now, her face was turning a sort of darkish plum purple. Neville had his hands over his ears, and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.  
  
"Well, Professor McGonagull, my cat was feeling sick today, and I just couldn't bear to leave him by himself. You've no idea what a sensitive animal Cupid is. I don't know what I would do if he died alond while I was in class! I couldn't live without him, I love him so! And now, he's been turned into a pickle! Is there any way to turn him back?" I wiped my dry eyes, and brought a kleenex out of purse to blow my nose.   
  
She fell for it. "Unfortunately, Miss Bulstrode, I know of no official transfiguration of cat into pickle, and therefore you may have to do some research before you find the countercurse. But I know exactly how you feel," she said, her eyes misting over. "I too am quite a lover of cats. Why, I am even a cat myself when in my Animagus form!"  
  
"Really, Professor?" I exclaimed, feigning enthusiasm. "That must be wonderful!"  
  
"Yes, it is." But just when I was starting to think that I would get off without any punishment, she snapped out of it. "But Miss Bulstrode, your love of your cat, although quite admirable, fails to explain why you suddenly sprinted across the room to Mr. Longbottoms desk!"  
  
I had been hoping she would forget that part; my excuse was rather weak. "Um, Professor, there was a mouse next to my desk. I'm terrified of mice!" I gave a little shudder. "And besides, I was afraid that Cupid would try to run after it." Now if only she wouldn't go and look for it.  
  
She didn't. "Very well, Miss Bulstrode. Twenty points off of Slytherin for an unauthorised animal in the classroom, and for disrupting the class." She then turned to Neville, who was still trembling in the seat next to me. "As for you, Mr. Longbottom, I understand that your part in this was quite unintentional. Therefore, I shall not take any points off of Gryffindor. However, you must learn to aim before you cast a spell. You shall assist Miss Bulstrode in finding a countercurse to the spell." So far, everything was going exactly as planned. Sometimes teachers can be so predictable.  
  
"Thank you, Professor!" we chorused meekly, and scurried out of the classroom together.  
  
In the hallway, I addressed Neville, "When would you like to look up the countercurse in the library?"  
  
"Um . . . whenever you want!" he stuttered, shrinking up as close to the wall as possible.  
  
"Okay, then how about tomorrow?" I gave him another one of my charming grins.  
  
Poor Neville's face now wore a look of undisguised terror. "But . . . but we have classes!" he said, obviously searching for an excuse.  
  
"Neville, tomorrow is a Saturday," I growled.  
  
"Oh! Right! I knew that! Um, okay . . . you know, I have to go to the bathroom. See you in Potions!" He would now have been sprinting down the hall at top speed if I hadn't grabbed his ear. He winced in pain.  
  
"No you don't." My voice was dangerously soft, almost menacing. Really, this was almost too easy. "Now, come with me to class."  
  
"Okay!" Neville's voice came out in a squeak. He was now twisting his head this way and that in agony, trying to escape my grip. Finally, the stupid boy gave up. "Would you let go of my ear . . . please?"   
  
I moved my face closer to his. "Do you promise that you won't try to escape?"  
  
"I prom-" Suddenly, he was cut of by the appearance of Granger, Potter and Weaseley. Damn them. They just ruined the perfect moment. For a minute there, I had almost had him under my thumb. I let go of his ear hastily.  
  
"Neville, are you okay?" Potter looked at me suspiciously. Neville glanced at me with fear written on every line of his face. I growled softly, so that only he could hear.  
  
"Um, yes, I'm fine, just wonderful, we were walking to our next class, you see McGonagall-"   
  
Once again he was cut off. "Neville, you to don't have the next class together--you know, History of Magic with the Ravenclaws?"  
  
"Oh, right, but she was walking me there on the way to Charms, which is what she has next-"  
  
"Neville, the Charms classroom is at the other side of the school," Hermione told him gently.  
  
"Oh! Right! I knew that! I mean, she-"  
  
Now I interrupted him. "Listen, we just ran into eachother in the halls. I'll be going now." And with that, I stalked off, pausing only to flick at Neville's ear where I had been pinching it. It was still red.   
None of the others noticed; they were already absorbed in conversation.   
  
Overall, the day had gone pretty well. It could have gone better, but these things can take time. I would just continue on with my plan, and if Iwas lucky, Neville should be mine by the end of tomorrow.  
  
  
  
So, what else does Millicent have in store for poor Neville? Find out in the next part--I'll try to get it up as soon as possible. This part didn't come out quite as well as I wanted it to, and I hope that the next part will be better. Please review! You can count it as your good deed for the day.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing from the Harry Potter books belongs to me. 


	2. A Kiss Interrupted

A Quest for Love: Chapter 2  
  
I tapped my foot impatiently on the carpet. Neville was supposed to be here by now; I had told him to meet me in the library at noon, and he was already five minutes late. So like a Gryffindor. When he was mine, I would make him pay for this.   
  
As I stood next to the bookshelf, growling to myself, I could hear the pattering of footseps approaching from behind. Neville tapped me on the shoulder. I whipped around, and Neville sprang back instinctively, as if I were a hungry beast. I reached forward, and grabbed him by the front of his robes. "Are you ready to work?" I asked sweetly. Neville gulped and then nodded. "Good. You take that shelf, and I will take this one. Now get to work!" I released him, and he scampered away to his appointed shelf. Good, very obediant. I grinned.  
  
We worked away for half an hour or so. I really was looking; although I had planned on Cupid being transfigured into a pickle, I had forgotten to look for a countercurse. And despite my little act with McGonagall, I really was fond of my cat, and the idea of him being stuck forever as a pickle did not appeal to me.  
  
Suddenly, Neville gave an excited yelp. "I found it!" he cried, dashing towards me. Madame Pince glared at us from over her glasses, but I took no notice. Quickly, I snatched the book away from Neville. The whole plan could have been spoiled if he had actually read the spell. Luckily, he had only had time to see the title and hand it over.   
  
The book was named, "Feline Transfiguration". Perfect. I opened it to the page that Neville had marked, and sure enough, there was my countercurse. Naturally, I didn't show it to Neville.  
  
"What does it say?" Neville asked. Now that he had gotten over his momentary excitement, his face had returned to its normal frightened appearance. I smiled, and pretended to consult the book.  
  
"Well, it says hear that the person who transfigured the cat must first kiss the owner, and then they must chant together 'Retournum Felinus'." By my calculations, most people wouldn't fall for this. On the other hand, Neville was slightly duller than most people.I watched as his face went from a stark white, to an interesting shade of red. He looked like a tomato with his round scarlet face. I worked to supress my laughter, but couldn't keep a tiny snigger from escaping. Fortunately, Neville seemed to preoccupied with the "spell" to notice.  
  
"W-wait," he stammered. "That means that I have to kiss you?"  
  
I sighed. Honestly, I knew that the boy wasn't so sharp, but I had thought that he could at least understand English. "Yes, Neville," I said in a somewhat patient voice. "That means that you have to kiss me. I'm really sorry, but you did transfigure my cat into a pickle!"  
  
"What's the matter with pickles?" he muttered, so low that I wasn't sure that I had heard him correctly. I bent closer.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I said, you were the one who leapt across the desk to get in my way!" I would have been impressed with this show of bravery, if I hadn't been looking for a meek, timid sort of boyfriend at the moment. That too would have to be trained out of him. I was starting to forget some of the qualities that I wanted to change in Neville. Maybe he wasn't my soulmate after all. On the other hand, he was the closest one to it at the moment, and he would just have to do.   
  
I grabbed Neville's wrist. "You know, you shouldn't have said that," I murmured. I began to twist his wrist in a rather painful manner. "It won't get you anywhere. You are going to kiss me, and my cat will once again be a cat. You understand?" Neville nodded; his eyes were tightly closed, and his wrist was starting to swell under my grasp. I let go of him, and his eyes opened. He immediately started rubbing his wrist tenderly where I had gripped it.  
  
"Are you ready?" I asked him, calming down. He looked desperately around him one more time as if for a means of escape. Madam Pince was turned the other way, and the only other students that were in the library was a small group of first years. Most people had something better to do than study on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Reluctantly, Neville nodded.  
  
I allowed myself a triumphant smile. Finally, after all of my efforts, we were getting somewhere. They don't say that Slytherins will do anything to reach their goals for no reason. I drew Neville closer to me. Once again, his eyes were screwed shut. He seemed to be gathering up the courage. And Gryffindors are supposed to be brave! But it didn't matter. I put my arms around him, and placed my lips on his. He had nice, soft lips. But just as I was starting to enjoy myself, I heard a voice from above.   
  
"Er--excuse me." a girl's voice said. "We just need to get past you." Neville's eyes flew open, and he pulled himself away from me.   
  
"Hermione?" he whispered. "Is that you?"  
  
"Neville!" she exclaimed in surprise and horror. "What are you doing with her?" Hermione stared at us in disbelief. "Wait, I must be seeing things. You can't possibly have been kissing."   
  
"Thank God!" Neville murmured, almost inaudibly. He seemed to be a bit too grateful at Hermione's sudden appearance. I pinched his arm. He shut up.  
  
"Granger, in case you couldn't tell, we were busy. Now would you please leave?" She looked as though she was going to obey, but at that moment, her dear friends Potter and Weasely showed up. Hermione took them aside and started to consult them in a whisper, no doubt about Neville and me. It looked like she was going to take awhile. I pulled Neville back into my arms. "Now, where were we?"  
  
Potter and his crowd reappeared on the scene. Potter seemed shocked, but Weasely's freckled countenance looked purely revolted. As one would expect, Potter took charge of the scene. "What's going on here?" he asked.  
  
Before I could reply, Neville opened his mouth. "I was helping her research how to turn that pickle there back into a cat. I found the countercurse, so I gave the book to her. She said that in order for it to work, first we had to kiss."  
  
Hermione started laughing. "But Neville, all you have to do to turn the pickle into a cat is say, 'Retournum Felinus'. You don't have to kiss anyone! Why, that's ridiculous." She managed to contain herself, although she still let out an occasional giggle.  
  
Neville was blushing again. "I didn't know! I was only doing what she told me too!" He shot me what would be a venemous glare if it had been from anyone else. Neville was too small and plump to make it seem anything but slightly irritated.  
  
I, on the other hand, am a master at venemous glares. Right now, I was giving the whole Potter group the evil eye. They didn't know how much planning they had just upset. Because of them, I would have to wait until another day before Neville would become my boyfriend.   
  
I still had one more trick up my sleeve, one more strategy to force Neville to submit to my charms. It was fool-proof; there was no way it could go wrong. These Gryffindors should have known better than to try to deter a Slytherin from reaching her goal. They might have disrupted my plans, but eventually, Neville would be mine.  
  
  
Please Review! It would make me very, very happy. There will be one more chapter after this one. I will probably make an effort to get it up faster if people will tell me their opinion of the story so far. 


	3. True Love Induced

A Quest for Love: Chapter 3  
  
I had always known that the name of my cat had to have some meaning behind it. Oh, of course I had heard of the little fluffy angel boy who shoots arrows poisoned with Love Potion. That's not what I meant. There had to have been a reason that my cat, of all the cats in the world, had to be named Cupid. So when I hit upon this particular plan, I decided that it had to be fate.   
  
I suppose that none of this makes sense to you. Be patient; it will in the due course of time.  
  
It was hard to decide where I would stage my little drama. Class wasn't the best idea; that would mean that I would have had to do everything under the watchful eyes of the teachers. On the other hand, where else could I expect to see a Gryffindor? And I was sure that Neville would do all that was in his power to avoid me.   
  
Finally, I decided that the only way to do it would be to kidnap Neville sometime after school. It wasn't as criminal as it sounds. I wasn't planning on keeping him for ransom or anything like that. I just wanted sufficient time to make him fall in love with me, by natural or artificial means. By the time I was done with him, he shouldn't want to leave.   
  
So one day after Transfiguration class, I grabbed Neville's elbow just as he was trying to hurry past me unnoticed. He tried to pull away, but submitted when I seized a chunk of his hair. Luckily, it was last period. I guided him down the halls to one of the doors that led outside. I carried my cat along, too; ever since the day when Cupid had been turned into a pickle, McGonagall had been very lax about allowing pets in class. She pretended that she didn't notice he was there, even when he was preening on a desk under her very nose.  
  
It was a beautiful day; although the sun was glaring brightly, the air was crisp and rather cool. I dragged a resistant Neville to a shady tree. It was a weeping willow, and there were several large rocks under its canopy that were conveniently positioned for sitting.  
  
The night before, I had done a tricky little spell on my dear cat. I had transformed him into a real, live cupid. Not that he was suddenly chubby with feathers. But whenever he licked a person, they fell madly in love with the first person that they saw. It turned out to be rather hard to keep Cupid from licking people. He had already licked Pansy Parkinson, who was infatuated with Gregory Goyle. He had licked Draco Malfoy, who had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. The cat had even licked Professor Snape, and the last time I had seen him, he was serenading Professor Trelawney. But as I said, a Slytherin doesn't let anything get in the way of their ambitions, even mass chaos.  
  
The scene was set. Neville was sitting across from me, nursing his sore head. The cat was purring peacefully in my lap. All I had to do was wait for it to lick him.  
  
Unfortunately, even the best plans can go wrong.  
  
The stupid cat was supposed to lick Neville. But cats are very contrary creatures. Poor Cupid had been in a foul mood ever since he had spent a day as a pickle. I suppose I can't blame him.  
  
So instead of licking Neville, the stupid cat licked me.  
  
I can't explain to you exactly how it felt to be passionately in love with Neville Longbottom. I looked at his round, chubby face with its innocent brown eyes, and I suddenly felt that it was the most beautiful thing in the whole world, although a minute ago it had seemed a bit funny. I wanted to smother him in kisses. I have always done whatever I wanted to, so sooner or later I would. But something had to be said first.  
  
I reached across and took Neville's hand. He looked startled, and tried to jerk it away again. But I managed to grab hold of it. He squirmed, but stopped trying to resist.  
  
"Neville," I said, looking deep into his eyes, "I love you, you know." It was clear to me that I had loved him all along; how I could have ever thought him anything less than perfect was a mystery to me.  
  
Thinking back on it, I must have looked ridiculous from Neville's point of view. This is a girl that has never done anything nice to him, a girl that has continually hurt him. And all of a sudden, her eyes glaze over, and she declares her undying love to him. If he was really observant, he might have noticed that at that moment, the black cat in her arms had given her a vigorous swipe with his tongue. But even if he did see it, I doubt that he would have attached any importance to the incident.  
  
Neville started to stand up, but he had forgotten that I still had a grasp on his hand. I pulled him down so that he was sitting next to me on the rock. I put my arm around him and cuddled him. He was cute and squishy, just like a teddy bear! The ideal boyfriend. My heart was overflowing with love for him. I started to kiss his plump, soft cheeks. Neville groaned, and dropped his face into his hands. Sensing his reluctance, I stopped for a minute.  
  
"Neville, do you love me too?" I asked him.  
  
He looked up, frightened. "Yes?" he replied unconvincingly.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
His head went back into his hands. "No," he whispered.  
  
I scooted closer to him, so that I was almost in his lap. "Why did you say yes, then?" I queried.  
  
Suddenly, he stood up. "Maybe because I'm afraid of being attacked by a lovesick, violent lunatic!" he shrieked.  
  
I stood up and attempted to embrace him. He stepped away, holding his free hand out in front of him. I stood rooted to the ground in shock. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be! He was supposed to love me, to kiss me, to caress me. And instead he thought that I was going to hurt him!  
  
"Neville, my sweet, you know I would never hurt you. You are far too precious to me."  
  
"Well in that case, how about letting me go!" With a sudden spurt of energy, he wrenched his hand from my grip, and ran back to the castle.  
  
I remained under the sheltering leaves of the willow. Now that Neville had left, I could think clearly. How had my plan gone so drastically wrong?  
  
I should have put that stupid cat under the Imperious Curse. That would have solved all of my problems. Neville would have been smitten with me, instead of the other way around. But it was too late now. At this point, the only thing that I could have possibly done was avoid Neville for the rest of the day. I thanked God that the spell wore off within 24 hours. Tomorrow, I could work on thinking up a new strategy.  
  
  
  
Thank you you to all of you who reviewed last time! I'm sorry that his chapter is short--I will try to make the next one longer. Please Review! 


	4. A Midnight Visit

A Quest for Love: Chapter 4  
  
There had to be some way that I could get Neville to love me. I had already used up all of my own ideas. But I couldn't just give up; a Slytherin never quits. Besides, I wanted him to be my boyfriend! Although he might not have been quite perfect, the more I got to know him, the more I felt that he was the closest thing that there was to Mr. Right.  
  
I was getting desperate. I had already been thinking hard for two days, and nothing had come to me. In fact, I was so desperate that I decided to ask someone else for advice. And that someone just happened to be Pansy Parkinson.  
  
We were sitting in a cosy little corner of the Slytherin common room. We were right next to the fire, which cast an erie greenish light about us. Just me and Pansy. She was telling me about Draco, for the millionth time. She seemed to forget that I knew him too.  
  
"Oh my God, he is so wonderful!" she gushed. "I swear, he is the sweetest guy in the whole school. And he is so hot! Oh my God, with those gorgeous grey eyes, and that smile! He has the perfect body, too. I go weak at the knees every time that I see him! I feel so sorry for the girls that can't have a boyfriend just like Draco! Just think, if there were a thousand Draco's, how happy we would all be! Maybe we could find a way to clone him. But no, we couldn't do that! Becuase even if we did clone him, I'm sure that no clone could capture how truly wonderful he is! That would be beyond even magic. Millicent, every night, when I go to sleep, I think of him, and he smiles at me, and puts his arms around me, and it's just like heaven . . ." Good thing she trailed off. I was about ready to knock her out if she uttered one more sentence. And I still hadn't asked her for her advice.   
  
Although Pansy Parkinson may be a total airhead, she knows everything about guys. If anyone has questions on the subject, she would be the one to go to.  
  
"Pansy," I started out tentatively, "I need some help."  
  
Right away, she jolted out of her daydream. Pansy loved helping her friends out. I think it made her feel superior.  
  
"Yes?" she said eagerly. "What's the matter?"  
  
I tried to state the problem without giving away the guy in question. "You see, if I liked this guy, how would I go about making him like me?"  
  
"Ooh, Millicent, do you have a crush? Is it Vincent? You know, I never told you this, but I always thought that you two would look so adorable together!" She backed away quickly, out of harm's way.  
  
I growled. I wanted to make a flying leap and kick her from midair, but I managed to restrain myself. I needed her help, and for that, she had to be kept conscious. "No, you stupid bitch, it is not Crabbe. Honestly, he has got to be the stupidest person that Hogwarts has ever seen! Why, he is even stupider than Nev-" I clapped my hand over my mouth.   
  
Pansy peered at my curiously. "What is it, Millicent?"   
  
I tried to recover my dignity. "I was going to say, he is even stupider that Goyle!"  
  
"Oh, so you have a crush on Goyle, do you?" she asked.  
  
I was about to say no, but it occured to me that she was bound to think it was someone, and better Goyle than Neville. So I just said, "Maybe, maybe not!" and smiled serenely.  
  
"Ooh, Millicent, why didn't you tell me?"  
  
I was starting to get impatient. "Listen, Pansy, just answer my question, will you?"  
  
She looked confused. "What was your question?"  
  
I almost screamed. "How do I make a freakin' guy like me?!"  
  
"Oh, that! Do you mean to tell me that you really don't know?" She started to laugh.  
  
I had had enough. I went over to Pansy, and pulled her up by the front of her robes. "Pansy, just answer the question. No other comments, okay?" I snarled.  
  
"Okay!" she managed to squeak out, before I dropped her to the floor. She let out a sigh of relief at feeling the solid ground beneath her feet. "Well, you should just try to get to know him better. Find out his interests, talk to him. Oh, and make sure to look pretty whenever you see him. Smile, flirt a bit. You get the picture?" I nodded. I wasn't too sure about the flirting, but the part where I was supposed to find out his interests made perfect sense. That meant a midnight trip to the Gryffindor boy's bedroom.  
  
  
That night, I was woken by my alarm promptly at twelve. I slipped quietly out of bed, and donned my black robes over my pastel pink nightgown. I put on my fluffy yellow ducky slippers, and quickly whispered a spell to make them as black as the rest of me. That way, I would blend in with the shadows.  
  
I tiptoed into the common room. The golden-green embers were still glowing weakly, but they looked about ready to go out any minute.   
I crept out of the portrait hole, and looked fearfully around me. Good; the corriders were deserted. I made my way up to the Gryffindor Tower.  
  
I had eavesdropped on the Gryffindors earlier that day as they went into their common room, concealed behind a rickety old piece of armour. Gryffindors are so open and trusting about everything; finding out there password did not take much ingenuity.   
  
When I arrived, the Fat Lady was asleep, snoring softly. I poked her in the cheek, and she awoke with a start. "Hello?"  
  
"Shh," I whispered. "Pumpkin juice." That was the password.  
  
The portrait creaked open lazily, and I climbed through as quietly as I could. It was the first time I had seen the Gryffindor common room. It was about the same size as ours, but somehow the crimson chairs looked more comfortable, and the coals burned red instead instead of a sickly green. Even in the darkness, I could distinguish the doorway that led to Neville's room, which he shared with the other Gryiffindor boys in our year.  
  
I stole up the pitch black staircase, relying on my hands to keep me from bumping into the walls. I almost fell when I came to the top step; I had lifted my foot high, expecting the ascent to continue, but the ground was far below. Once I had regained my balance, I entered the boy's room. The window emitted a bit of light into the room, which allowed me to find Neville's bed. That was good, since I didn't want to run the risk of waking anyone up if I had had to create my own light.  
  
Next to Neville's bed, there was a cabinet which contained a stack of papers and books. I quickly rifled through them. Unfortunately, the moonlight was not enough to permit me to make out the words. I would just have to randomly grab some papers and make away with them. I would slip them back in tomorrow night. Hopefully, Neville would never notice their absence. Besides, even if he did, he would probably just think that he had misplaced them. After all, he was rididculously forgetful.  
  
I picked up an armful of his stuff, and quickly shut the door to the cabinet. I'm afraid that in my haste, I shut it a bit too loudly. In fact, I almost slammed it. I heard someone stirring in the darkness.   
  
"Who is it?" a voice asked. Neville's voice. Great. I swore softly under my breath.   
  
"Nobody. Go back to sleep," I commanded.  
  
"Wait!" Neville sat up in bed. The light was full in his face, and away from mine. He looked adorable, with his tousled hair, and sleepy eyes. He was struggling to focus on me. Suddenly, he groaned. "It's Millicent, isn't it?" he asked softly.  
  
I groaned too. He just had to recognize me. Couldn't any of my plans work out as they were supposed to? "Yes, it's me." I turned as if to go. Perhaps in the morning, he would think it was all a dream. I would just deny it all.  
  
"Don't go yet!" Neville's voice interrupted me. "What are you carrying?"  
  
"Nothing. Don't worry about it."  
  
Neville's voice seemed a bit higher than usual. "Stop stalking me!" he said in a hysterical whisper.  
  
"Neville, I am not stalking you. Now go back to sleep!"  
  
"But what are you taking?" He seemed like he might start crying any minute.  
  
I sighed. There was only one way that I could see out of this whole mess. I would have to use a Memory Charm. To my surprise, I felt slightly guilty. I had used Memory Charms tons of times before now, and it hadn't troubled my conscience at all. Why this time? But despite my reasoning, I somehow knew that doing this felt wrong. Neville was so helpless. It was the middle of the night, and he seemed so innocent, and so cute. He was even clutching an old teddy bear. It seemed a shame to do this to him.  
  
'Stop this, Millicent!' I thought to myself. 'What kind of behavior is this for a Slytherin? Sltherins aren't supposed to have consciences!'  
  
Before I could think it over any longer, I pointed my wand directly at Neville, screwed my eyes shut, and muttered, "Obliviate." There, it was done. I could already feel the pangs of guilt in my head. 'You shouldn't have done that, you know,' they told me. I ignored them to the best of my ability.  
  
Neville was staring straight ahead, a dazed look on his face. Suddenly, he fell back into his pillows and gave a loud snore. I fled from the room, carrying the precious papers with me.  
  
  
  
Please Review! I am desperate to know your opinions. Also, thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. 


	5. Attempted Makeover

Sorry, Zoe, I hate to disappoint you, but there are no vicious badgers in this chapter. No toads either, but I hope you like it anyway. Are people losing interest in this story? Because I got twelve reviews for Chapter 3, and only four for Chapter 4. Please, don't give up on it! And even if you do, at least review and tell me why. Please?! Thanks to all of the people who have reviewed so far!  
  
  
A Quest for Love: Chapter 5  
  
At the first hint of daylight the next morning, I was awake. Without even allowing myself time for a yawn or a quick shower, I grabbed the papers that I had ransacked from Neville's room. I quickly shuffled through them: an old birthday card, a couple of letters, and a book. Sadly, there was no diary.  
  
I opened the card first. It was almost a year old, and covered with dust. The handwriting was that of an old lady, perhaps, small, spidery, and hard to read.  
  
Dear Neville,  
  
I hope that you have a nice birthday at your school. My present to you this year is another Remembrall, since I know that you lost the last. Fortunately, they are not very expensive, or I would have gone bankrupt by now. The best wish that I can give you for the upcoming year is that you may be more responsible, and that you shall improve in your studies. And always remember that you are representing out family at your school, and try not to disgrace us.  
  
Sincerely,   
  
Your Grandmother  
  
  
I must admit that after reading this letter, I felt more sorry for Neville than I ever had before. No wonder he was so meek, so pitiful, after being traumatised all of his life by a grandmother like that!  
  
I reached for the book. "Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean," I read aloud. I could feel my eyes widening in shock. I had been searching for this book for the past three years! Herbology was my hobby. It was the only part of my personality that did't exactly fit in with my reputation. I know, as a Slytherin a more fitting pastime would have been torturing defenseless animals. Well, I did that sometimes too. But I couldn't help it. I just loved plants. At home I had a wonderful garden, all my own, with beautiful flowers and fascinating magical plants. The only thing that it was lacking was a pond, where the water plants could live. I would have had one put in right away, but I could find very little information on plants that live under water. My father casually mentioned the book one day, and I knew right away that it was the book that I needed. The only problem was where to find it.  
  
I set the book on my bedstand. I was sure that Neville wouldn't mind me borrowing it.  
  
I turned back to the small stack of papers on my bed. Finally, I had come to the letters. I reached for one, but I was surprised to see that there was no address, or even a name on the envelope. My curiousity grew. I hastily slit open the envelope and unfolded the letter.  
  
Dear Mother,   
  
Merry Christmas! I hope that you had a wonderful holiday. Did you get a lot of nice presents? I wish you could have been here, but I am sure that you were happy where you are.  
  
My grades are improving. Aren't you happy? Guess what? I got a 95% on my Herbology test! That was the best in the class, besides Hermione Granger, of course. I've told you about her, right?   
  
There was a dance last weekend. The Yule Ball, to be precise. Was there a Triwizard Tournament when you were at Hogwarts? Did you go to the Yule Ball with Dad? I went with this girl named Ginny Weasely. You are friends with the Weaselys, aren't you? She was really nice, even though she is in the year below me.  
  
I hope I can see you soon. I love you, and please give my love to Dad.   
  
Your son,   
  
Neville Longbottom  
  
  
That was the end of the letter. But as I peered closer, I could see that there were smudges on the paper, as if water had been dropped there. Or perhaps tears? But why would a boy cry while writing a cheerful letter to his mother? I dismissed the thought; that would have been ridiculous.  
  
The more pressing question was why Neville still had this letter, and why the envelope had not been addressed to anyone. But that could be explained rationally. Most likely, he had decided that he didn't like the letter, and chosen not to send it. After all, that could happen to anyone.  
  
I had just reached out to pick up the second letter when I heard the door swing open, and Pansy came flying through. I quickly stashed the papers under my pillow.   
  
When Pansy saw me, her smug grin changed immediately to a pitying expression. "Oh, Millicent, I'm so sorry!" she cried out.  
  
I frowned. "What the hell are you talking about, Pansy?" I hate being pitied.  
  
"You mean you haven't heard?" she asked gleefully. Pansy always loved to be the first one to tell bad news.  
  
"Obviously not." I said a bit huffily.  
  
"Gregory Goyle is madly in love with me! Wait, don't get mad," she said, holding her hands out in front of her protectively. She had obviously mistaken my disgusted grimace for a jealous glare. "I didn't encourage him or anything, really I didn't. It's not my fault that he suddenly came up to me and tried to kiss me. I wasn't trying to make Draco jealous, I promise!"  
  
"Yeah right. Don't lie to me, Pansy; you are so transparent it's not even funny. I never gave a damn about Goyle, and I honestly don't care if he is infatuated with you. But don't try to make me think that he did it of his own will. You were trying to make Draco jealous."  
  
"No-no, I wasn't," Pansy stammered.  
  
"Yes you were. Don't think that you can hide it from me, Pansy."  
  
By now, Pansy looked terrified. She clasped her hands in front of her. For a moment I was even afraid that she was going to kneel on the floor and kiss my feet. "Millicent, please, please don't tell Draco! I don't think I could bear it if he knew. I would die rather than have him find out about it. Listen, I'll help you get Goyle back. I admit it, I gave him a love potion. But it was pretty weak--if we make you look really pretty, then he should fall in love with you instead."  
  
I started to back away. I am sure that my face looked as terrified then as hers had two minutes ago. I could tell that Pansy was getting into her make-over mode. And once she was in that mode, there was nothing that anyone could do about it except sit there and grit their teeth. If you tried to get out of it, she would curse your face off.  
  
"Um, Pansy, I don't think that that would be a good idea," I said weakly.  
  
"What are you talking about? It's brilliant! Come on, what color eyeshadow do you want?" I groaned, but she took no notice. "Now I think that purple would be your best bet. It would really bring out your eyes. You have lovely eyes, Millicent, you just need to show them off a bit more. Ah, yes, I have the perfect lipstick for you! It's called Luscious Rose . . ."  
  
For the next three hours I was powdered and painted until it felt like their couldn't possibly be any more of my original skin left showing. My eyebrows were tweezed, my lashes were curled and lengthened, my hair was in tight ringlets, and my cheeks had round, red circles that stood out a mile away. I wanted to hide in a dark, lonely closet. Unfortunately, Pansy had other plans.  
  
"Come on, Millicent, we have to show you off!" she giggled. "Let's go out to the common room." She grabbed my hand, and dragged me down the stairs with amazing force.  
  
As we made our grand entrance, every head in the room turned to look at me. As Crabbe and Goyle caught sight of me, their jaws dropped simultaneously. I could feel my cheeks grow hot underneath the pasty layers of makeup. As soon as I reached the bottom, both Crabbe and Goyle rushed to my side.  
  
"Wow, Millicent, you look really great," Crabbe said stupidly.  
  
Goyle grunted in assent.  
  
For once, Crabbe appeared to be thinking. He was twisting his hands nervously together, his brow knitted in concentration. "Um, Millicent, I was thinking, sometime when we go to Hogsmeade, would you want to come with me?" He asked akwardly.  
  
"Huh? Hey, wait a minute!" Goyle cut in, once Crabbe's offer had sunk into his brain. "Millicent wants to go with me!"  
  
"Really?" Crabbe inquired. "She never told me . . . I think that you are just making it up. She likes me better!"  
  
"No, she said that she likes me better!"  
  
Although this conversation was just the confidence-booster that I needed, I felt that it had better come to an end before one of them decided that we had had sex. So just as Goyle was about to shoot back some biting remark, I interrupted. "Thanks, guys, but I think that I would rather go alone." And with that, I marched out of the common room, determined to show Neville my new look before I lost my courage.  
  
My courage held up as I walked fearlessly across the school. It was only as I got to the Fat Lady's portrait that I started shaking with nerves. Not only did my future love life depend on this visit, but Slytherin's honor! I just couldn't stand it if I went in there and made a fool out of myself. But then, Slytherins weren't supposed to be nervous, much less care what a Gryffindor might think. 'Get a grip on yourself!' I thought, shocked at my feeling of vulnerability. 'Honestly, if you can't take this, then you ought to have been placed in Hufflepuff!' I gave another small shudder, but this time it was of horror ar the thought of me in Hufflepuff, and not out of fear. I smiled to myself. Much better.  
  
"Pumpkin juice," I told the Fat Lady resolutely, and once again the portrait hole swung open to admit me.  
  
Inside, the room was full of students. Some were gathered around the fire, some playing Exploding Snap, and some just hung together in small groups and chattted. Characteristically, Hermione was huddled in a corner, cradling an immense book in her lap. I could even spy Neville, curled up in a chair. He looked as if he was going to start snoring any minute.  
  
It took a minute before heads twisted to look at me. I think it was Hermione Granger who spotted me first. She had just looked up to check the time, when her eyes fell on me, and she let out a small gasp. Less than a second later, both Potter and Weasley had turned to catch a glimpse of me too. Soon, the whole room had fallen silent. Even Neville was sitting straight up in his chair, staring at me with terrified eyes.  
  
I walked slowly over to him, swaying my hips gently as I moved. "Hi, Neville," I crooned, just as Pansy had taught me. I batted my eyelashes seductively.  
  
To my surprise, Neville let out a little yelp and dove from his chair straight under the nearest table, where he sat whimpering like a hurt puppy.  
  
As if that wasn't enough, I heard stifled giggles coming fromt he opposite end of the room. I growled softly, and began to walk over to the foolish girls. Forget the hips. I was pissed off, and it wasn't a good idea to giggle when I was mad. Most people knew this, but then, what else could you expect of a Gryffindor?  
  
I reached the culprits, two girls curled up in the window seat, with pillows stuffed over their mouths to muffle their laughter. They looked about my age, and seemed vaguely familiar . . . I groped about in the back of my mind for a minute before I could remember their names. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown! Needless to say, they stopped their cackling when I came over.   
  
"What's so funny?" I asked quietly.  
  
"Well, your make-up . . ." Lavender gasped.  
  
"And that lipstick . . . did anyone ever teach you to apply it?" Parvati interrupted, giving me a superior smile. The two Gryffindors exchanged an amused look, before erupting into another helpless fit of laughter.  
  
I wanted to pick them up then and there and throw them out of the window. But experience had taught me that it is always best to look first before you act. I glanced quickly around me. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were standing next to the two tittering girls like bodyguards, with there fists clenched. Okay, I could take on them both--they wouldn't be much of an obstacle. But behind them stood Potter and Weasely, and behind them stood the Weasely twins, who were a year above me. Neville was still cowering under the table. I sighed. So long to my fantasies of Lavender and Parvati smashed on the ground four floors below me. I would have to settle for glaring at them. Somehow, glaring didn't seem as satisfying to my anger as seeing their faces smashed on the ground would have been.  
  
Parvati was the first of the two to regain her presence of mind. "Really, Millicent, what did you do to yourself?" she asked, with a small snicker.  
  
"Nothing," I muttered.  
  
Now Parvati started to smile. "You know what you need?"  
  
I tried not to notice the look on her face. "No."  
  
Her smile widened. Now she looked exactly like Pansy had when she was in her makeover mode. I turned to Lavender, praying that she would get her friend out of here before it was too late. Not a chance. Her face mirrored Parvati's, right down to the impish grin.  
  
"You need a make-over!" they chorused happily.   
  
"Come on, we know exactly what to do!" Lavender squealed, grabbing my arm and attempting to pull me to the girl's room.  
  
I wrenched my arm away from her. Pansy may be able to get me to do what she wants, sometimes, but no little Gryffindor slut will ever order me around.  
  
"You are not going to do a make-over on me, okay?" I hissed. "I am not your new doll. Got that?" Parvati and Lavender nodded, backing slowly away from me. They looked ready to run as soon as I took a step towards them.  
  
But I didn't. Instead, I walked towards the portrait hole, seething with unleashed anger. How dare they make fun of me? They would be sorry, I resolved. I would make those lowly Gryffindors rue the day that they had decided mock me, a Slytherin.  
  
I climbed out of the portrait hole, and straightened my robes. But just as I turned to go back to the Slytherin common room, I found myself confronted by Hermione Granger. "What are you doing here?" I sneered.  
  
"Um . . . nothing," she said with false brightness. I could see her eyes casting about for a means of escape. "I mean, I was just going to go to the library . . . to study for potions. Right."   
  
I repressed a strong urge to laugh. For a moment there, Hermione Granger, straight A+ student, had reminded me of Neville Longbottom, on the day that I had met him in the corriders after turning my cat into a pickle.  
  
"Really, Hermione," I said, unconsiously using her first name. "What do you want?"  
  
She hesitated for a moment, but then went boldly on. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry . . ." she faltered.  
  
"Sorry?" I said, taken aback.  
  
"You know, for how they treated you, and laughed at you. I hope you didn't mind too much."  
  
I stared at her in shock. She just apologized? But she was a Gryffindor . . . they don't apologise, at least not to Slytherins. But maybe she was better than some of them.   
  
"Hermione?" I could hear Lavender's laughing voice echoing from within the comon room. "Parvati, do you know where Hermione went?'  
  
I could feel my heart harden. She was one of them--for a moment, she had almost taken me in with her apology. "Mudblood, can you honestly think that I would care what a Gryffindor thinks of me?"  
  
Hermione's warm brown eyes hardened, like melted chocolate cooling to a rocky solid. "Well, since I am only a incompetent Gryffindor, you couldn't really expect me to have considered that beforehand, could you? Really, you have to learn to make allowances for those of us who don't possess your positively tremendous brain capacity," she sneered, voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
I took a step back. If I had been shocked when she apologised, I was doubly so now. 'Gryffindors don't sneer!' I thought to myself. But obviously she did. Maybe she wasn't like the others after all. But I couldn't apologise. Slytherins don't apologise.  
  
She sighed. "Listen, Millicent, I didn't come out here to argue with you. What I really wanted to do was ask if you actually wanted a make-over. Because if you do, I could give you one," she said, blushing a little. "It's not the kind of thing that I usually do, but I could understand why you wouldn't want Lavender or Parvati to do it. Last time they tried that on me, I didn't get out of there for over two hours, and I felt like there was more make-up to me than there was skin."  
  
I considered her offer. Really, she didn't seem as bad as the rest of them. I couldn't apologise, according to the unwritten Slytherin code of law, but maybe I could accept her offer. But what would the other Slytherins think?  
  
I was about to reject Hermione's offer, when she interrupted my train of thought. "Why did you want a make-over in the first place?" she asked curiously.  
  
I thought of Neville. This could be my last chance to get him, and it was certain that my last appearance had not exactly impressed him. I needed him to be my boyfriend! The thought caused me to abandon my former reluctance.  
  
"Okay, I'll do it!" I determined. Hermione looked surprised, but willingly led me back up through the portrait hole and to her room.  
  
  
  
So, will Millicent be transformed into a supermodel, surpassing in beauty all women that have ever lived? Or will this make-over be a flop just like the other? For all of you Neville-lovers out there (I know, there probably aren't many) I will try to give him a bigger role in the next chapter. Please Review! 


	6. Curlers

Sorry this part took so long to come out! A lot of stuff have been happening in my life, and I have had writer's block for a long time.  
  
  
  
A Quest for Love: Chapter 5  
  
The Gryffindor girls' room was a mess, even messier than my room. There were clothes littered all over the floor, and every spare inch of desk, shelve, or chair was sure to be occupied by a hairbrush, lipstick, or some kind of accessory. In the middle of it all stood what was obviously Hermione's bed, immaculate, an oasis of neatness in the vast pigsty that was their room. I made a disgusted face, but fortunately Hermione didn't notice.   
  
We picked our way carefully through the wrinkled cloth. I let out a relieved sigh when we finally reached her bed. Hermione smiled slightly. "I know, it's a bit . . . cluttered, isn't it. I gave up trying to tidy it up after out first month here. Even the houselfs can't keep it clean." I felt the tiniest bit of pity for her; it must have been trying for a perfectionist such as Hermione to be living amidst such chaos. But I couldn't bring myself to feel too sorry for her. After all, she was a Gryffindor, and as a loyal Slytherin, I should be have been celebrating her discomfort.  
  
Hermione started choosing lipsticks from the selection that lay across one of the beds. She moved on to a pale eyeshadow, and what looked like mascara. When she had all of the makeup assembled in front of her, she set to work on my face.  
  
She put a bit of brown eyeshadow first. I kind of liked it; it made my eyelids shimmer when I turned my head and looked sideways. Then she applied the mascara. I have really short eyelashes, but somehow they looked longer after she was done. My eyes are a chocolaty brown color, and they looked nice.  
  
She left my cheeks alone, since they are naturally rosy, and moved on to my lips. All she did there was put on a pinkish lipstick, and some lipgloss. It wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be. The lipstick wasn't too dark, or too bright, or too pink. It suited me.  
  
I was sitting in front of a mirror, and I could tell that I didn't look too bad. In fact, I looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. And more importantly, I didn't feel as if my neck couldn't support my head anymore after pounds of foundation had been coated onto my face. Actually, Hermione used everything in pretty moderate amounts.  
  
After perhaps half of an hour, Hermione backed away to survey her work. "Your face is done. I don't think that anyone will be knocking your door down trying to force you to model for 'Witch Weekly anytime soon . . . "  
  
I frowned. No Slytherin with any pride would stand by and let a Gryffindor insult them. I was just reaching out to hit her when Hermione cut me off.  
  
" . . . but I do think that it is a definite improvement."  
  
Well, that would have to do. "Okay," I said, bouncing up from the chair. Hermione grabbed the back of my robes before I could escape from the room.   
  
"You can't honestly think I would let you out without doing something to your hair first, can you?" she asked, a mischievious glint in her eyes.  
  
I started to back away. "No, thank you, I like my hair the way it is."  
  
Hermione started to grin. "Aww, come on Millicent, don't you want to make a grand entrance?"  
  
I stood silently, refusing to give in. Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. Eventually, I crumbled. "I guess so," I mumbled reluctantly.  
  
Hermione's grin widened. "Well, the only way you can do that is with the proper hairstyle!"  
  
I buried my head in my hands. Judging by her own bushy hair, Hermione didn't know the first thing about hairdressing. Nevertheless, I sat back down in front of the mirror.  
  
Hermione skipped over to one of the beds and started hunting under it. I was sorely tempted to escape then, when her back was turned. But something kept me rooted to the chair. Perhaps Hermione had put a spell over it to make me stay in place. Or perhaps I just didn't really want to leave.  
  
Hermione emerged, dusty and triumphant, holding up a collection of ancient curlers in one hand. I regretted then not having followed my instinct and left when I could have. I was trapped, and there was nothing I could do about it. If you can't tell, I hate curlers.  
  
Well, she started snatching at tufts of my hair, pulling them this way and that and twisting them painfully around the curlers. She took forever, too. By the time she was on the fifth curler, after about forty-five minutes, I had had enough.  
  
I tried to turn around and look at her, but as I moved my head, she moved with it. I felt like a dog trying to chase its own tail. It was pointless, so I stood up abruptly, before Hermione had the chance to push me gently back down. "Listen, Hermione," I said impatiently, "I don't care about my hair. I want to be done with this, okay? Take these stupid things out of my hair and let me go back down."  
  
Hermione smiled indulgently, the way one would at a small child. "Don't worry, Millicent," she said in this soothing voice, putting her hand on my shoulder. "I understand. I promise, it won't take much longer."  
  
Up until that point, I had kept my temper admirably, but that was the last straw. No Gryffindor would ever try to patronize me without regretting it. I grabbed a piece of her hair. She winced. "Mudblood, if I want to go, then you can't stop me," I growled at her. "Goodbye. I don't need an incompetent Mudblood hairdresser trying to keep me pent up in this pigsty! If you want to do someone's hair, why don't you try doing something about your own!" And with that, I let go of her hair and flounced out of the room without a backwards glance.  
  
I hadn't calmed down at all by the time that I came out of the staircase which led to the Gryffindor common room. In fact, I was growing angrier every minute. I was so preoccupied that I was already halfway through the common room before I noticed the strange looks that I was getting. My audience had a stunned look on their faces. Suddenly, a great roar of laughter broke out. I wished that I could clone myself and throw them all out of the window, watch their broken bodies splattered on the pavement. Somehow, the thought seemed familiar. How many times could I embarass myself in front of the Gryffindors in one day? Perhaps I was hallucinating. I was just too excited, that was all. I rubbed my eyes, hoping that the sight was going to disappear. But it didn't. If anything, it had gotten worse, since quite a few people were coming down from their rooms to see what all the fuss was about.  
  
What had I done this time? I checked my robes, but they were still black and in one piece. My shoes matched, I was wearing both of my socks . . . what could it be? I ran over to the window to see my reflection. And I almost screamed when I caught sight of it. It seemed that most of my hair was still piled up in curlers. The rest of it hung limply from the side of my head. I cursed myself for my carelessness.  
  
I started to run to the portrait hole, but stopped midway. It probably would not have been a good idea to go show myself off to the whole school in this state. There was only one place left to go. So a minute later, I found myself trudging back of the flight of stairs that led to Hermione's room.  
  
Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the center of the room. She was patiently winding her own fluffy hair around those curlers. I crept in meekly, and began untangling the curlers from my hair. It was a ghastly process. It took me almost thirty minutes to get them all undone. If Hermione knew that I was there, she didn't say so.  
  
I slipped over to Hermione when I was done and dropped the curlers at her feet. She looked up at me. "Don't call me Mudblood," she said reproachfully. I looked at my feet. I had black shoes on, black shiny shoes with black laces. They were not very comfortable. I found myself wishing that I was wearing my yellow ducky slippers.  
  
A quiet giggle brought me out of my reverie. Down on the floor, Hermione was laughing softly to herself. "What did they say when you went downstairs in those curlers?" she asked me, still chuckling.  
  
I could feel my face go red. "They didn't say anything!" I said defensively. It wasn't a lie, really. Most of the people had been laughing too hard to do anything but gasp and point.  
  
"Well, anyways, thanks for bringing back my curlers. I don't suppose you still want me to do your hair?"  
  
"No, no, that's quite all right," I said hastily.  
  
"Just come here for a moment. I promise you, if I'm not done in five minutes, you can leave."  
  
Slightly reassured, but still rather doubtful, I walked towards Hermione. She grabbed a couple of bobby pins that lay on the floor. True to her word, she let me go five minutes later with my hair piled on my head in a messy bun.  
  
This time, no one looked up at me when I appeared in the doorway of the common room. I suppose you have to look really ridiculous to make a grand entrance among the Gryffindors. Actually, I didn't want to be noticed. I spied Neville working on Transfiguration in a shadowy corner of the room. I wanted to surprise him.  
  
I walked over to him, taking care to make as little noise as possible. When I was right behind him, I reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey," I said softly.  
  
Neville's eyes widened as he caught sight of me. "Wha-what-who?" he stuttered. Poor Neville.   
  
"It's me."  
  
The moonlight that filtered through the shutters illuminated Neville's features, and I could clearly see the fear etched across his face. "What are you doing?" he asked cautiously.  
  
"Hermione was just doing some stuff to my hair," I replied nonchalantly.  
  
"You look . . . kinda different."  
  
"I know." I was starting to get impatient. How long would it take the boy to see my true beauty and realize that all along, I was his soulmate?  
  
"Well, I have to do my homework now." Obviously he wasn't going to find out any time soon. But I don't like waiting.  
  
"I could help you," I offered, moving in a bit closer. Neville scooted away quickly, as if I had bad breath or something. I don't think I have bad breath.  
  
"Listen, Millicent, I need you to go! Don't you get it?" Neville's voice was rising, and he sounded as if he was starting to panic.  
  
"Okay, Neville, I'll go soon," I assented willingly. "Can you just give me five minutes of your time?" Of course, it didn't really matter whether he would or not, but I figured that it couldn't hurt my cause to seem polite.  
  
Neville sighed in resignation. "Fine, Millicent, what is it?"  
  
"Nothing, really, I was just wondering if you would like to join me this weekend for some butterbeer?"  
  
"Not really-" he paused when he saw the look on my face- "I mean yes, of course!" he squeaked out.  
  
I caught hold of his hand and started to bend his fingers back slowly and deliberately. Neville let out a small cry. "What were you saying?" I asked.  
  
"I said, yes, I'd love to!"  
  
I continued to bend his hand into odd shapes. He was starting to turn pale now. I could hear his knuckles cracking. It sounded painful. I smiled. "And you had better be there, understand?"  
  
"Yes! Yes! Will you let go of my hand please?"  
  
"Are you paying attention to me?"  
  
And suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a small white fist knocked against my nose, sending me reeling backwards. I looked up from my postion on the carpet and saw Neville staring at me from above, along with the rest of the Gryffindor common room. My gaze traveled down Neville's arm to his hand . . . it was still clenched tightly in a fist. It had been his punch, then. I staggered back up to my feet. Neville was staring at me, open-mouthed in shock. Apparently his sudden burst of bravery had startled him as much as it had startled me. I was dizzy; the world around me was nothing but a blur.  
  
Somehow, I stumbled over to where Neville was rooted to the floor. I could hear a voice ringing through my head, telling me to fight, goading me on. The next part isn't really clear to me, but Neville told me later that I launched myself at him and punched him full in the center of his head. I do know that when the world stopped spinning around me, the first thing that I saw was Neville's small body lying prone on the carpet. His face was pale, and his eyes were closed. He reminded me of my brother, he looked so innocent and peaceful. My brother is dead. I shivered. I hadn't killed Neville; I could still see his chest rising and falling with each breath. But he would need to go to the Hospital Wing. I looked around; the common room seemed to be deserted. Great. Just when I finally need them, the Gryffindors aren't around to help. So characteristic. I sighed, and picked him up myself. He wasn't too light, but I could manage. Carrying Neville's limp body in my arms, I walked out of the common room and up to the Hospital Wing.  
  
  
  
  
  
Thank you so much to the everyone who has ever reviewed this story! I am putting up a list dedicated to all of you.  
  
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You are all wonderful people! I don't know what I would do without you.  
  
  
I didn't plan to have Millicent and Neville actually get together when I started this series, but a lot of my reviewers have been asking me to make it work out, so I am seriously thinking about it. I know, I promised more Neville in this chapter, but he just didn't want to come in much. Sorry. The next part should not take as long as this to come out, and the more reviews, the sooner I will post it.  
  
Please Review! If you want me to review one of your stories too, just tell me so in your review. Thanks!  



	7. Human Remembrall

A Quest for Love: Chapter 7  
  
I knocked softly on the door to the Hospital Wing. A moment later, the door opened a crack, and Madam Pomfrey's head poked out. It was dark inside; I had probably woken her up. She blinked blearily as the light from the corrider fell across her eyes. "Who's there?" she asked sleepily.  
  
"Millicent Bulstrode." I said. "Longbottom fainted."  
  
Apparently that woke the nurse up a bit, because her eyebrows shot straight up into her forehead. "What?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"Neville Longbottom fainted," I repeated.  
  
"No, I mean who are you?" She squinted, her eyes still adjusting to the light.  
  
"I'm Millicent." I was starting to get annoyed now. "Listen, could you let me in now? Neville isn't all that light."   
  
"Of course. Just a moment." Madam Pomfrey turned on a lamp, and pointed to a bed where I could deposit the unconscious Neville.   
  
"Well? Will he be all right?" I asked, once Neville was lying peacefully under the covers.  
  
Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Yes, dear, he'll be better in the morning. Of course, it will take him a little while to recuperate, though. Whatever happened to him?"  
  
I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair. "Well, erm, he fell, I mean, he tripped over a stool and hit his head." That sounded feasible. Neville wasn't exactly graceful.  
  
Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows again, but didn't make any comment. After a few minutes, though, she addressed me again. "You can go now. He won't wake up until morning." She yawned.  
  
"You aren't going to help him?"  
  
The nurse looked vaguely amused. "What could I do? I don't want to wake him up at eleven o'clock at night anyway. I'll be able to wake him in the morning."  
  
"Well, I'll just wait here then," I said.  
  
"Miss Bulstrode, you can't wait up all night!" Madam Pomfrey looked scandalized.   
  
"I don't have school tomorrow. I can wait up all night if I want to," I insisted.  
  
"You're a growing girl! You need your sleep! I certainly cannot let you wait here all night. Don't worry about your little friend. He'll be fine. Goodnight!" And with that, she practically shoved me out of the door. A moment later, I could see the lights go out from within. I waited another minute, and Madam Pomfrey's gentle snores reached my ears. Good. I slipped my wand out of my pocket, and whispered "Alohomora." Silently, I crept into the Hospital wing.  
  
I don't really know why I wanted to stay with Neville. I guess I just felt guilty. It didn't seem right to hurt someone who was as harmless as Neville . . . 'Millicent! What are you thinking?' I growled to myself. 'Neville is a Gryffindor. A true Slytherin does not regret hurting Gryffindors, no matter how harmless they appear to be. You did not mind hurting Neville. You are only staying here so that when he wakes up, you will be able to let him know what will happen if he tries to punch you again. That's all. This has nothing to do with guilt. No guilt . . .' My thoughts trailed off, as I stared at Neville's still figure.   
  
It was then that I had my brilliant idea. I don't know where it came from. It was an inspiration. I was enlightened in the Hospital Wing. I would write Neville a song.   
  
It would be a wonderful song, I decided right away. When he woke up, the first thing that he would see would be my smiling face. He would hear my irresistable voice, and immediately he would be smitten with me. It would work perfectly.  
  
What would the song be about? I thought. And thought. For a long time. What would Neville want to hear about? What would be meaningful to him? What did he depend on?   
  
That was when I had my second amazing idea in the same night. Neville depended on his Remembrall . . . I would be Neville's Remembrall!  
  
I started making up the song right away. It didn't take me long. I'm good at stuff like that, if I do say so myself. Five minutes later, I had the perfect lyrics, and a tune to match. It even rhymed. I started to hum the tune softly under my breath.  
  
Neville stirred.  
  
I sprang over to his side. He couldn't wake without me there serenading him. It would ruin the whole plan if he did that.  
  
As Neville's eyes fluttered open, I started to sing at the top of my voice. I had put a silencing charm on the room; Madam Pomfrey wouldn't hear me. And I had to make sure that Neville could hear me.  
  
  
"I'll be your Remembrall  
I will come at your every call  
I'll tell you what you forgot  
And believe me, you forgot a lot."  
  
  
I paused as Neville rubbed his eyes wearily. "I'm dreaming," he stated in a flat, monotonous voice. "Millicent, you are not singing to me. Go away. I'll wake up soon."  
  
"That's not true!" I said irritably. "I'm real. Just listen, there's more. And don't interrupt again." I considered twisting his wrist, but decided that the song would have more impact if I stroked his hair instead. So I grabbed his head.   
  
"Ouch!" Neville said. "Go away, nightmare!"  
  
"Oh, shut up!" I snapped. "I'm just trying to stroke your hair, although it might work better if you stopped fidgeting. Don't move and be quiet!" Neville obeyed. "Much better." I started stroking his head rather forcefully. I didn't know how thick that boy's skull was. I had to make sure that he could fell me. Neville jerked his head, but grasped it tightly and held it in place. "Listen!" I commanded. Neville grimaced, but he couldn't move his hands to plug his ears. I was holding both of them firmly in one of my own.  
  
I started to sing.  
  
  
"Your grandma won't need to send  
You Remebralls, cause I will lend  
My brain to you, to say what you forgot  
And believe me, you forgot a lot"  
  
"I don't ask much in return  
All I ask is that you learn  
That with all your heart you love me  
And then see how happy we will be."  
  
  
When the song was done, I gave Neville a dazzling smile. He closed his eyes tightly. I suppose that the brilliance of my grin was too much for him. He couldn't bear to look on so much beauty all at once. Kind of the way people can't stare at the sun too long without hurting their eyes.  
  
"So, Neville, did you like it?" I crossed my fingers. I had finally come to the moment when Neville would announce his passion for me.  
  
"Erm--"  
  
"You did like it, didn't you?"I put my face right up close to Neville's.  
  
"Erm . . . why am I here?"  
  
I saw through his little tactic. He wasn't going to change the subject. I wouldn't let him. "I don't know, but I can guarantee that it will be much longer if you don't answer my question," I hissed.  
  
"Erm--yes! Yes, of course I liked it!" Neville sounded a bit unsure, but I relaxed my grip on his hands slightly.  
  
"Good. I thought of a Remembrall because I know that you keep losing yours. And by the way, you are here because you punched me." Neville looked confused. I explained. "So, naturally, I punched back in self-defense."   
  
Neville's eyes widened. "I remember!" he exclaimed. "You tried to break my hand!" He pointed an accusing finger at me.   
  
I started to get worried. He wasn't supposed to remember that. "No! I would never try to break your hand! But let's not dwell on that. Umm . . . I'll help you with your homework! You won't be out until tomorrow, and you must have work that you need to finish . . . right?"  
  
Neville looked like he wanted to go to sleep again. "No, that's okay, Millicent. Hermione will help me . . . Hermione always helps me . . . " His eyes dropped slowly. As he started to snore, the full impact of his words hit me.  
  
Hermione would help him. Why Hermione? Why not me? I should be helping him. The love of his life should be helping him. That was me! . . . right? Or did he like someone else . . . Hermione?! Damn.  
  
I knew that girl was bad from the start. I knew it. She was always being nice to Neville, flirting with Neville . . . that was my job! She was trying to steal Neville from me! I would have to teach her a lesson. She couldn't just reach out and take Neville. I had worked hard for him. He was mine!  
  
There just had to be a way to break them up.  
  
  
  
  
Thank you so much to the lovely people that reviewed this! You make me so happy. You can be expecting a list of reviewers every couple of chapters from now on.  
  
If you thought that the song in the middle of this was absolutely awful, I would like to remind you that it was an example of Millicent's writing skills, not mine. Don't flame me for it. I know it's bad.  
  
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